


Love You Like That

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, Fluff, M/M, Omegaverse, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Arthur doesn't want to be married to a man that doesn't love him, but that's how it often is with royal marriages.





	Love You Like That

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song Love You Like That by Dagny. It was also a fill to a request I'd gotten on tumblr!

“I’m free this week, finally.”

Arthur hummed in agreement, spoon hovering by his lips, “There’s that New Year’s Ball you have to prepare for though, remember?”

Alfred groaned and Arthur took a smiling sip of his soup.

See, Arthur had discovered that his fiancé was impatient. Well, there was nothing quite new about that fact if one really knew him, but seeing as Arthur had barely met the man before they’d been engaged, any bit of information was new to him.

Alfred was a sweetheart, and there was no doubt about it. His kingdom loved him, and he loved it. He loved every citizen, he loved every law enough to enforce it, he loved everything about his country so dearly in order to rule it as well as he did.

There was only one problem. Alfred, with his big, boyish heart, seemed to love everything except for Arthur.

“You like the soup?” Alfred shovelled in his pasta. “I had it made specially for you, since you loved it so much at that party in the Clubs Kingdom.”

“That’s kind of you,” Arthur said, and he dabbed his lips with his napkin, watching as Alfred inhaled his bread.

He would be a great husband. He was a great king.

Why wouldn’t he be? A king who single-handedly expanded the kingdom without a war or a conflict deserved some sort of praise, even if Arthur had been angry in the beginning.

And he’d had every right to be angry. To watch through the crack of his bedroom door as an arrogant child of a king told Arthur’s father he would make him rich upon merging kingdoms, something Arthur’s father agreed upon almost instantaneously due to the fact that he just wasn’t fit for rule.

The alpha was silver-tongued. He could convince anyone to do his bidding, it seemed. The talent of a true king. 

Besides, to Arthur’s father, it was killing two birds with one stone. One, to give away the kingdom that caused him so much stress; and two, to give a well-known, powerful king his omega son’s hand in marriage, securing a seat in the Spades Kingdom.

“I can just skip the practice for the ball,” Alfred concluded upon minutes of furrowed-brow pondering. “It wouldn’t be bad, it’s just one time, right?”

Alfred left no room for a response. “Besides, it’s not like anyone would protest me wanting to spend more time with my fiancé, now, would they?”

Arthur’s smile wavered. He gripped his spoon tighter in his hand. “No, I would think not.”

Arthur Kirkland, a man that used to be a prince, was reduced to an excuse.

That’s where the problem lied. See, he was regarded as goods to be traded. Arthur always knew his marriage would lie in politics, and he supposed he should be glad he was given to a younger king rather than one with a snowy beard like the ones he’d feared he’d have to call a husband when he was a child.

Despite this, Arthur also supposed it was his fault for expecting a fairy-tale romance to unfold, like the ones in the novels.

He supposed it was his fault for agreeing to meet his betrothed rather than be locked away in his room until the marriage.

“King Alfred wants to get to know you.” Arthur’s brothers had taunted, and it was his fault for stepping out, red-faced, to greet the alpha he’d wanted to strangle up until then-

And for looking into those beautiful blue eyes as the king brought Arthur’s hand up to place a kiss on its knuckles.

Arthur would’ve been better off convincing himself there would be nothing there. Instead, he’d signed himself up to suffer as he was dragged about the castle at the alpha’s convenience- so Alfred could get out of practices, so he could get out of work, so he could take a break.

An excuse. An item. A trade.

“Do you have to be home a certain time?”

“I don’t do much after dinner, so no,” Arthur muttered absent-mindedly, fingers tapping at the petals of the plump roses lined around the castle walls.

It warmed his heart, just a little bit.

He remembered telling Alfred, no- he remembered _snapping,_  back when he was still in denial, back when he’d first trodden on the garden grass, after Alfred had made yet another smug comment about his  _vast kingdom._

“For an alpha so powerful, your castle looks awfully plain.”

Alfred had baulked, that arrogant expression on his face had slipped for just a moment before a smirk spread back onto his features, “And what would you have me do about that?”

Arthur had crossed his arms. “You could take a few lessons from  _my_  kingdom.”

Arthur had single-handedly planted every rose that dotted the grounds of his own palace, and he was proud of it too. He loved them- such regal flowers they were- so strikingly beautiful with a scent so fresh and faint.

“You could’ve picked any other flower, you know.” He had said, lips parted in silent awe as Alfred had led him into his garden for the second time, a garden newly teeming with roses of seemingly every colour that ever existed.

“They remind me of you.” Alfred had said with a grin. “Your scent… it’s of roses.”

Cheesy. Alfred was one for grandness, whether it meant parties or, in Arthur’s sorry case, courting.

A king with a reputation like his? An alpha with an ego like his? Arthur shouldn’t have expected less than a gift per day.

He wondered what today’s would be.

“You were right, you know? These roses make the castle look better.” Alfred said, breath coming out in puffs. Arthur shrugged into his clothing. It was chilly out. “And you seem to like them too, you’ve been looking at them for ages.”

Alfred chuckled and Arthur blinked. “Oh, I- they’re beautiful.”

Arthur liked the way his hands looked beside them. He’d always been a pale fellow but that didn’t seem too bad when it was beside a blood red rose. Long, creamy fingers, with a diamond ring glinting alongside silken petals.

It was picture perfect.

“I’m afraid I don’t make good company, Alfred, you would’ve been better off at that practice tonight,” Arthur said with a clear of his throat, turning to find Alfred’s gaze turned to the stars.

“And miss all of this? You know-”

Alfred bore his blue-eyed gaze into Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur couldn’t look away. “I don’t get to see the stars, or do anything remotely enjoyable when I’m not with you.”

“I suppose that’ll change when we’re married,” Arthur said.

It would, wouldn’t it? Alfred would have no more excuses when Arthur was already his. No more surprises, Arthur would be the silent husband, the silent queen, and they would meet every month to satisfy Arthur’s heats, and Arthur would bear Alfred a child, and on they would go living a mundane married life.

Arthur knew how royal-couples were. He’d grown up with his parents, who’d sported not one ounce of love for each other.

Respect, yes. Not love. And Arthur would have to settle for that.

“Maybe.” Alfred said, and he shrugged, “Things are bound to change, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it, eh? I can only hope you don’t get bored of me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “One can hardly call themselves bored in your company.”

Alfred pressed his palm onto his chest in a mock gesture, as if he’d been touched. Arthur wasn’t quite one for compliments. “I for one know if there’s one thing I’ll never tire of, it’s that accent of yours.”  

“M- my accent?”

“And the way you smell.” Alfred continued. He came closer and Arthur could say the same- Alfred’s scent was something Arthur would never get used to. It was nothing new either, seeing as His Highness had been so kind as to lend Arthur articles of his clothing to keep Arthur satisfied during his heats.

“It doesn’t really help, though, does it? With your heats?” Arthur’s brother, Allistair, had said to him.

In fact, it served to make his heats worse. The scent of an alpha that wasn’t there in person- it drove Arthur wild with want, clutching and tearing at Alfred’s poor coat.

“That’s what he really wants.” Allistair had said. “He’s got you craving his scent at your weakest moment. Cunning fellow.”

Alfred certainly didn’t seem so cunning in this light, Arthur noted. The soft yellow of the torches that lit the castle made him look, if it were possible, more handsome than he usually was. Arthur found it hard to swallow.

“Your scent isn’t too bad either.”

“Thank you.” Alfred laughed. Just a little. “Although, I can say, I’d like your scent a lot better mixed with mine.”

Whatever faint smile had been on Arthur’s lips before dropped.

“When I’d have marked you.” He said, tapping at Arthur’s neck as if Arthur hadn’t spent countless days in heat, thinking about the same thing, scratching at the same place in a feeble attempt to mimic what it would feel like. “Mated you.”

Alfred leaned in to kiss him and Arthur’s father would have been proud of how fast Arthur had ducked away.

He’d never been so quick with his reflexes when he’d been taught how to wield a sword, but Arthur found this situation to be more needing.

Alfred turned around to find Arthur practically cowering behind a tree. Alfred sputtered, “Wh- I… jeez, did you not want me to-?”

Arthur hoped the cold air would cool his cheeks. “You can’t just do that!”

“I’m sorry, I thought you wouldn’t mind!” Was Alfred’s response.

“I… I don’t.”

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Alfred replied with a crossing of his arms. He then sighed, lips spreading into a small smile, “Did you want me to wait until marriage?”

“No.”

“Then enlighten me as to what this just was?”

“I’m not your property to do with what you wish.” Arthur found himself snapping, and Alfred seemed taken aback by the accusation. He seemed a bit angry. Arthur could tell by the hint of lemon in his scent.

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame me for something I haven’t done, it was a simple kiss, I-”

“It might’ve been simple to you, but it would’ve been my first.” Years of Arthur being saved away for whoever would be his future husband lead to this. Arthur hadn’t felt the touch of another on his lips- he’d never even known what to imagine of it. “Granted, it would’ve been as romantic as they are in the novels, I don’t think it’s fair for you to take it whenever you please, without my permission. It makes me feel worse than I already do.”

“You-” Alfred furrowed his brows, “You don’t like this marriage?”

“I never said that,” Arthur said, yet the look in those blue eyes softened his words to follow. Words he’d bit back since he’d first met Alfred, ones his father had told him not to say, ones that people all his life had told him not to think about. “I just don’t think I can do it. I can’t be married when my own husband doesn’t… love me.”

Alfred’s reaction wasn’t something Arthur had expected, and he’d thought of everything. Arthur had dreamt up every reaction imaginable to the words he’d said- Alfred scooping him into his arms to profess his love to him with a kiss under the moonlight, or Alfred telling him  _that’s how it is_ with a scoff, laughing at Arthur’s naivety.

He had not, however, imagined Alfred’s expression to smooth back out into one of nonchalance, “You read a lot of romance novels, don’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“You read a lot, right?” Alfred crossed his arms, “So you must know what love really is. Tell me.”

Now was definitely not the time to be condescending, but Alfred was doing it anyway, and Arthur parted his lips to tell him off. He had no tolerance for childish behaviour, and those smug eyes, as if Arthur couldn’t have his own definition of love, it was insulting, it was-!

“Because if it isn’t breaking my neck to get these roses in the dead winter, and  _planting half of them myself_ , scouring the markets for hours for spices indigenous to the Clubs Kingdom for a soup you’ll take minutes to eat, skipping practices upon practices and letting work pile up on my desk just to spend an  _hour_ with you, please tell me Arthur, what exactly is love?”

Arthur was going to punch him.

Not even the cold could save his reddening cheeks, and those were most definitely tears swimming in his eyes, and he’d never gotten so much attention in his life, it was embarrassing.

It was embarrassing and relieving at once, and Arthur wanted to bruise Alfred’s face with a punch. He wanted to bruise Alfred’s lips with a kiss.

“You could just _bloody_  say it, you know?” Arthur found himself saying, lips bordering on wobbly, and Alfred smiled.

“I- I know I’m not always clever with the words I use.”

Alfred was holding him now, and Arthur wasn’t quite sure how he got there, but he frowned, “You’re damn right you aren’t.”

“But those novels you like to read-” Alfred’s shoulders sank, as if he was sighing, just as Arthur was sighing in relief at the words that followed. “I love you like that.”

“I do too,” Arthur said, barely a whisper, and if Alfred wasn’t listening for it, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He apparently was, because he grinned. “Can I kiss you now?”

Arthur didn’t know him, not yet, not completely. But what he did know was that Alfred was impatient,  _he was an idiot who couldn’t express his feelings_ , and Arthur was going to marry him. He was going to discover the bad as well as the good, and as long as Alfred kept looking at him the way he was doing just then, Arthur would be fine. 

Even if he didn’t say the words.

Although, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to say them until Alfred didn’t even have to think about replying.

“Yes.”


End file.
